


Khoschek

by Meon



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Familiars, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:38:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meon/pseuds/Meon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Khoschek is Cecil's familiar, the closest to a family Carlos is going to meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Khoschek

**Author's Note:**

> Someone mentioned on tumblr a while ago something about Khoschek being Cecil's familiar. I took the idea and played with it.

They're out on a "coffee, maybe more" date and Carlos is looking at the thick reddish puple goo in his cup, occasionally glancing at Cecil who happily sips the same (with two sugars and a splash of milk). Cecil seems to be generally happy when he is around Carlos. He smiles a lot and his eyes are wide. He hangs on Carlos' lips when he's talking about earthquakes that are there but aren't observed by citizens and houses which are observed by citizens but aren't there.

Cecil doesn't mind strangeness. Cecil is from Night Vale. And yet, he listens. It's sweet, really.

However, the almost-comfortable scene is interrupted when Cecil's eyes widen and he almost drops his cup.

"I- I'm so sorry, dear Carlos, but I'm afraid I have to go!" He quickly grabs the sugar, whispers something in it and throws a few notes on the table before placing the sugar on it. Carlos could have sworn he saw a piece of paper appearing just under the money, a moment before Cecil put it down. The radio moderator stands up, looking a little frantic.

Carlos gets up too and tries to keep up with him as he quickly leaves the shop. "Did something happen? Something bad?"

Cecil whirls around, obviously shaken out of something that went on in his head. "Oh, no. Don't worry, nothing too bad. It's just." His eyes wander to Carlos' hair for a moment and a smile spreads out on his face. Carlos touches his hair self-conciously. He didn't get a haircut since Terry vanished, his hair probably looked really ridiculous. Cecil shook his head, face serious again. "Khoschek needs me, that's all."

"Khoschek?" Carlos asks and Cecil's expression changes. "Oh," he says, as if he just noticed something. "That's right, you haven't met him yet."

He grabs Carlos' wrist, softly and turns. They cross the street and Carlos has a hunch where they are going. Not too far away, the light of the Night Vale Radio tower flashes red, on and off, on and off.

"I'm sure he will love you. I mean, everyone in Night Vale loves you, it is impossible to do otherwise." He flashed Carlos a wide smile and the scientist was a little surprised on how little the sentence actually disturbed him. It was actually rather flattering.

He doesn't say much when they enter the Radio Station, now holding hands, Cecil still ahead, walking quickly. He passes a few colleagues, who greet him with a short, guttural grunt, which Cecil seems to respond to, but Carlos is not sure. Carlos is never sure when it comes to Night Vale. He had given up being sure when he entered this town about a year ago.

He doesn't say much when they pass Cecil's booth and walk down a small corridor. However, when Cecil drags him towards the men's room, he opens his mouth in protest. "Cecil I don't think we-" but he stops as Cecil lets go of his hand and opens the door, quickly crossing the room and walking towards the sink.

Cats.

Carlos stands in the door, open mouthed.

Cats.

  
_Floating_ cats.  


He blinks. Takes off his glasses. Rubs his eyes. Puts them on again.

Still. Cats.

He breathes out as he notices the grey striped kitten close to his knee. It's trying to catch his own tail and tumbles forwards, spinning slightly in the air. Next to it, there is a litter box, exactly the right height for it to reach it. Carlos fights the urge to pet the kitten's soft looking tummy.

There is a soft growling meow over his head and he looks up. Right under the ceiling, another kitten - with another litter box next to it - is looking down at Carlos and pawing in his direction. It doesn't move from it's fixed point, but it falls on it's side and waggles all four paws at the direction of his face.

Carlos tries to say something, something other than "cats" but his mind won't help him out. He swallows and then looks over at Cecil, who is fussing about one of the cats.

Wait.

No.

That is no cat.

Cecil is currently stroking something, whispering soothing coos at it and smiling as he buries his fingers in long, matted and dirt-clotted grey fur. There are teeth, too many teeth in too many places and a single big, red eye which is now fixing Carlos from underneath Cecil's arm. It growls loudly and it sounds like an alligator trapped in a sewer. Cecil laughs and lifts what Carlos believes to be the creatures head.

"Yes, Khoschek, that is Carlos. I knew you would love him." He beams at Carlos. "Carlos, this is Khoschek, my..." he hesitates for a moment. "My familiar, as it seems. I was never much of a cat person, but he just grew on me." His voice is full of fondness and he keeps stroking the "cat."

Khoschek keeps staring at Carlos, a dark purple tongue sliding over one of the many rows of teeth. He "meows". It's not a meow. The bathroom shakes.

"Familiar?", he finally manages to say.

  
"Yes, I didn't know either." Cecil seems excited. "But I could hear him calling me, when we were having coffee. I think he turned on his back and couldn't roll back into his original position. So he called me. Isn't that  _CUTE_ ?!"  


He says it with the same tone he used to describe youtube videos of little animals. Carlos assumes, there is something sweet to it. Somewhere.

Not really wanting to, he steps over to Cecil and Khoschek, holding out his hand for the "cat" to sniff. It does so and, after a moment, licks his fingers. It feels as if someone had taken sandpaper to Carlos' fingers and he looks at them, realizing they are red and scrubby now. Khoschek "meows" again, and Cecil smacks his forehead. "I completely forgot, it's feeding time. Let me get the food, I'll be back in no time!" In a moment of sudden boldness, he kisses Carlos on the cheek who is still looking at his fingers, dumbfounded. That however, gets him back to earth and he looks after Cecil as he is leaving the bathroom, his cheeks slightly warm. He turns to Khoschek and carefully pets the creature's head. If it was Cecil's familiar, he should probably be careful with touching it, but Khoschek seemed to be enjoying it. He closed his eye and slightly shoved his head against Carlos' hand, most of the teeth vanishing somewhere in the fur. Two ears, soft and pointy like cat ears are, stand up and there is a purr which doesn't sound too differently from a normal cat purr. Carlos smiles despite everything and starts scratching Khoschek's cheeks, which he seems to like even more.

"Hello, there Khoschek. I'm Carlos. It's nice to meet you."

When Cecil comes back, he is carrying several cans of cat food. Carlos is pleasantly surprised. By now, he had expected entrails. He helps putting the food into all the bowls and watches the kittens and Khoschek flail towards them until they pull it close enough to eat from them. The kitten right under the ceiling is a messy eater and he steps aside to prevent being covered in cat food. His shoulder bumps into Cecil's and they look at each other.

"I like them," Carlos finally says.

  
Cecil smiles widely. "I knew you would. It's hard not to love Khoschek. And the kittens are a _dorable_ ."  


  
Carlos looks at the cats again. They are. In their own, hovering, slightly unsettling Night Vale-ish way. They are very adorable. "Cats normally don't like me, " he says.  


Cecil smiles and takes his arm. "Everyone in Night Vale loves you, Carlos." There is something hanging in the air after that, but he can't say it right now, so he just clears his throat and leans his head against Carlos' shoulder. Carlos smiles.

This would be incredibly romantic if it wasn't in the men's bathroom of a radio station with grey walls and no mirrors, filled with hovering kittens. So from a Night Vale standard, maybe it was.


End file.
